


every time, i'd choose you

by albypotter



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Idk how to describe this, M/M, it's lots of little bits put together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albypotter/pseuds/albypotter
Summary: Albus can’t stop watching Scorpius’ smile. He falls a little more in love every time.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 127





	every time, i'd choose you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lumoshyperion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoshyperion/gifts).



> happy birthday emily!! thank you for always being the loveliest friend, i hope this is Soft Albus enough for you <3

_red_.

King’s Cross station is heavy with that bittersweet feeling Albus gets every single year as September draws closer. He wants to get away from home, from the suffocating feeling of his family, but he doesn’t want to go back to school, either. In the end, the deciding factor is Scorpius. It’s always Scorpius. Spotting the distinctive Malfoy hair from across the platform sparks a little thrill in his chest. Albus waves his parents goodbye – hugs his mother, before he goes – and runs over to where Scorpius is standing with his parents. He has his back to Albus, deep in conversation with his father, but Astoria looks up and gives him a warm, welcoming look as he draws near.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathless from pushing through the crowds, and Scorpius turns to him immediately.

“Albus! I’ve missed you!” Scorpius smiles, wide and bright, and Albus’ heart beats harder in his chest. He’s missed this, though it’s only been six weeks since they last saw each other. Scorpius is glowing, sun-tanned and gorgeous. The southern Italian sun has treated him well, Albus thinks, and feels a blush rising on his face.

“Hi,” he says again, distracted.

“You already said that,” Scorpius reminds him, but his tone is soft and kind, like it always is. “Come on, let’s get on the train. It’s leaving soon.”

Scorpius says his goodbyes, then grabs Albus’ hand to pull him towards the train. Albus follows willingly. He’d follow this boy anywhere.

* * *

_gold._

They crossed over into Scotland an hour ago, and the sun is sinking lower in the late afternoon sky. Light streams through the dusty windows in broad golden bands, across the faded red seats of the compartment they have all to themselves. Scorpius has a half-eaten chocolate frog in one hand, and a Potions textbook in the other. He’s been alternating bites with ‘fun facts’ from the book, and Albus is content to just sit and watch and listen.

“Did you know,” Scorpius says, tongue flicking out to lick a smudge of chocolate from his lips. “We get to try brewing Amortentia this year? It looks quite complicated, though.”

Albus inhales deeply, and the air is filled with dust and sugar and the familiar lavender scent of Scorpius’ clothes. He doesn’t need to be able to brew a love potion to know what it will smell of; he has it all right here with him.

“I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” he says, and Scorpius looks up at him from his book and his mouth is turned upwards at the corners a little, curious and hopeful.

“Of course we will. You’re great at potions, Albus.”

And if his heart does a little happy dance in his chest, well, what does it matter? Scorpius is here, he’s not going anywhere, and Albus is free to love him, even if it’s a secret. He watches Scorpius go back to his book, and smear chocolate in the corner of his mouth as he tries to take another bite. Albus sits on the opposite side of the compartment and thinks about what it would be like to move, to reach out across the yawning divide and wipe it away. With his thumb, maybe, or with his own mouth. Scorpius turns the page and starts telling him about the Age-Up Potion.

* * *

_white._

Winter is Albus’ favourite season. It always snows in Scotland, and he _hates_ the cold and the dry air and the way the sparkling snowdrifts melt into wet slush after a few days. But it’s all worth it for the look on Scorpius’ face when he looks outside and sees it for the first time that year. He tugs on Albus’ sleeve as they’re walking to breakfast that morning, and Albus looks back to see him gazing out of the window, transfixed.

“Look,” he says, voice hushed in awe and wonder. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Albus watches his best friend with carefully guarded eyes and thinks, _yes, you are_.

Their Care of Magical Creatures class is cancelled (Bowtruckles don’t like the cold, Scorpius explains to him, so they’re hiding inside), which means that they’re free to explore. It feels different when everything is blanketed in white – they find parts of the grounds that Albus thinks he’s never even seen before as they wander around the back of the school. There’s an inter-house snowball fight being organised on the front lawn, but Albus pulled Scorpius away at the first mention of it; he doesn’t want anything cold or wet being hurled at him. So instead they take a walk along the little path that’s been cleared by the lake and past the forest. It’s still snowing now, though it’s late afternoon and the sky has been white all day. The wetness seeps in through the bottom of Albus’ shoes, and it’s so cold that he’s almost shivering, but he doesn’t mind. Scorpius is trying to catch snowflakes in his mouth, and despite how quickly they’re falling he’s completely failing at it. They stick in his hair and sparkle like glitter in the late afternoon sunlight. Finally, there’s a little shout from beside him, and Albus turns to see Scorpius with his tongue sticking out, grinning wide.

“Look, Albus, I caught one!”

There are snowflakes dusting Scorpius’ skin like freckles and clinging to his eyelashes as he blinks. He looks utterly beautiful, glowing white and smiling, and Albus is certain now if he wasn’t before that he’d put up with _anything_ just to see his best friend this happy.

* * *

_blue_.

They’re spread out over the grass with their books, notes, quills and ink, but there’s not much work being done. Albus finishes folding a square of parchment into the shape of a bird, and places it gently on Scorpius’ face where he’s lying on his back, eyes closed. He watches quietly, holding back a laugh, as Scorpius reaches up to brush the bird away from his eyes.

“I thought you were supposed to be working, Al,” he says as he sits up, though the look on his face is far from disapproval. More like a quiet wonder, Albus thinks, watching the upturn of Scorpius’ mouth as he looks down at the folded paper. “Did you make this?”

“Yeah,” Albus says, and it comes out a lot more cautious than he expected it to, but it’s okay. Scorpius always seems to have this effect on him. Everything is softer when he’s around, bathed in the blue of the lake and the sky and the deep calm he feels when they’re alone together. Albus feels a sudden urge to take Scorpius’ hand – so he does, and Scorpius glances over at him, a little _oh_ of surprise on his lips.

 _Do we do this now?_ The words echo through the past to remind him that they _don’t_ do this, not really, that he’s crossed an unspoken boundary through that one little action. Scorpius doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s looking down at his hands – one joined with Albus’, and the other still holding the paper bird with something like reverence. His eyes flit up to meet Albus’, just for a moment, but he seems suddenly nervous in that uniquely Scorpius way; quiet and shy and panicky. Albus squeezes his hand as a reassurance.

“Hey,” he says, and Scorpius looks back up at him from where he’s been staring at their joined hands. Albus doesn’t realise how close they are, doesn’t realise he’s been leaning even closer until it’s almost too late. He doesn’t want to move away, but Scorpius is undeniably looking at his mouth with a thrilling sense of _want_ , and Albus isn’t ready. Not yet, maybe not ever. This friendship is the best thing he’s ever had, and he won’t risk ruining it for a silly crush on his best friend – his _only_ friend.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he moves away, pulls his hand from Scorpius’ grip. There’s tension in the air now, thick and uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to sit in it anymore. He hates the disappointment on Scorpius’ face as he stands to go, hates knowing that he’s caused it, but what else can he do?

* * *

_silver_.

There’s been something between them, since that day by the lake, but Albus doesn’t want to acknowledge it. So he stays quiet, and Scorpius stays quiet, and neither of them forget, but they don’t talk about it either. It takes a nightmare and a panic attack and Scorpius saying that he _can’t bear the dungeon anymore, I need to get out of here, I know it’s the middle of the night but_ please, _Albus_.

Albus summons James’ invisibility cloak from the bottom of his trunk with a sleepy flick of his wand and passes it over, but Scorpius stays standing by his bed and watches him expectantly.

“Okay,” Albus says, and gets up to put his shoes on. It’s three in the morning, and he’s barely slept, but Scorpius needs him.

They climb to the top of the Astronomy tower, because it’s the furthest place from the dark claustrophobia of Slytherin house that they can think of. They’re huddled together under the cloak that’s barely big enough to fit them both anymore, and after a few minutes Scorpius takes Albus’ hand. Because it’s convenient, maybe, or because he’s still shaky and scared, but Albus squeezes their palms together and holds on tight. If it’s what Scorpius wants, he’ll never let go.

He spreads the invisibility cloak out like a blanket over the cold stone, and they lie back to look up at the sky. Albus is happy just to watch, but Scorpius seems intent on pointing out as many constellations as he can. Albus dozes off to the sweet sound of his voice. He’s half asleep, barely paying attention.

“Aren’t they just beautiful?”

“What?”

Scorpius is looking over at him, silver sparkling in his eyes. There’s a tiny smile at the corners of his lips.

“The stars. Don’t you think they’re beautiful?”

“Sure,” Albus says, distant. Maybe the stars are beautiful; he has no idea. The only thing he has eyes for right now is Scorpius, smiling, glowing in the moonlight, the shadows across his pointed features only making him look more ethereal. He’s _magical_ , Albus thinks. This is what magic would look like, if it had a physical form.

“Albus? Are you okay?” Scorpius’ face crinkles a little, but it doesn’t break the illusion.

“I’m okay,” Albus says. “I was just thinking about how you look like magic.”

He realises too late that it’s an odd thing to say, and Scorpius is already looking at him with something strange and dark in his eyes and now it’s like he can’t breathe. “Sorry,” he tries, as though that will repair the already-broken line he’s just crossed.

“Don’t be,” Scorpius says, hushed and nervous, but still certain. “It’s sweet.”

Albus sits up, suddenly wide awake, to look into Scorpius’ eyes even though he’s afraid of what he’ll find. But this is _Scorpius_. He’s always safe here.

There are fingers tangling in Albus’ hair and pulling him closer, and they’re barely a breath away from each other now, but there’s still space. Space to change their minds, space to pull away and forget and never talk about this again.

“Can I?” Scorpius asks, and Albus barely hears him over the sound of his beating heart.

“Please.”

* * *

_orange_.

They’re together, out on the balcony at the back of the school, watching the sun set over the mountains. The scene before them is lit up in yellows and reds, shadows stretching, light reflecting off the lake and into their eyes. It’s beautiful, Albus thinks, as he looks out over the water and the trees and the way it all shines. It feels like coming home.

“Albus.”

And if he was happy before, it was nothing compared to the sound of Scorpius saying his name like that. This is freedom, this is safety and joy and love. Scorpius is watching Albus as he turns towards him, chewing on his lower lip. It shatters Albus’ heart, just a bit, to see him worry.

“What’s up?”

He puts his hand over Scorpius’ where it’s resting on the stone ledge of the balcony, and Scorpius smiles a little. Albus’ heart skips. He’s so in love.

“Do you ever wonder where we’ll end up after Hogwarts? What kind of people we’ll become?” It’s such a _Scorpius_ thing to ask, but luckily Albus knows the right answer.

“Sometimes,” he says, “but it’s not worth worrying over. It doesn’t matter what we’ll be doing. At least we’ll be together.”

He moves, then, to pull Scorpius close, to wrap his arms around his neck and press their foreheads together. “We’ll always be together, you know,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. Just loud enough for Scorpius to hear and know that he means it.

“I know,” Scorpius replies, soft, and Albus can feel the words brushing against his lips. There’s barely space between them, so Scorpius barely has to move to kiss him. It must have happened a hundred times now, but every kiss is still so special. Albus holds his boyfriend close and remembers just how lucky he is to have this.

* * *

_black_.

Whether it’s two years later, or ten, or twenty – it doesn’t matter. They’re together, and each day they are better than the last. There are struggles, of course, but they take them on as one. A friendship – a _relationship_ – like this doesn’t fade easily, and they never give it the chance to. Albus rolls over in bed in the middle of the night, with the knowledge that Scorpius is right there next to him. His eyes flutter open as Albus brushes a white-blond curl away from his face.

“Hey, love,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” Albus says, quiet. “Just missed you, that’s all.” His eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see Scorpius smile. His heart soars.

“I’m still here,” Scorpius says, reaching out to take Albus’ hand under the sheets. “I’ll always be here.”


End file.
